I was tired. Exhausted. Tired of feeling like my body didn’t belong to me. Tired of being frozen in place. Tired of living in the shadow of a woman who’d only ever lied to me and used me to elevate her own name. I wanted to find Camilla. I wanted to explain myself, and I wanted to redeem myself. I was tired of being me, and I was tired of hating who I was. I alone was allowed to move forward. In the endless loop. Over and over again. Only I could grow and change. Margaret had been given a chance to do the same, but only through death. And a memory can only grow so much. Everyone else in Beddenmor was trapped in the most miserable week of their lives, and they had no idea. Only I could change, and only I could give the same opportunity back to everyone else.

  And I was tired of staying the same anyway.

  I wanted to move. I was ready to move. With every breath I took—and every thought of my Grandmother—I felt that energy building. I felt my feet grow lighter, if only because I was too angry to notice the weight. I didn’t know how long that would last, but I was ready to use it while I had it. I finally had an answer, however pathetic, for what had happened in my life. I was still to blame for a lot of it. I was not innocent of what had happened to Camilla. But I was tired of carrying blame that belonged to my grandmother. It wasn’t all mine, and carving it into my back was the final cruelty my grandmother would ever do to me.

  Most of all, I was tired of being afraid. I couldn’t stop it. I knew that. Whoever I had become, it was a woman who would never leave fear behind. Fear of pain, and death, and responsibility. Fear of repeating my mistakes. And fear of facing them. I knew I would always be afraid. But something changed. When Lucas was drowning at his mother’s feet. Or maybe in the loops leading up to it. When I realized what my grandmother had been doing. Or when I repeated my mistake, and once again tried to kill an innocent person. Something had snapped. And I decided that, afraid or not, I was going to move forward.

  I brought Margaret to see her mother. I let her say goodbye to the woman she’d saved, even if I was the only one who could hear it. And then I let her go. Or, she let me go. Either way, she understood that I wouldn’t be using my aura to bring her back again, and she understood why. She’d chosen to die when she did. Seeing her mother happy was a gift she didn’t expect when she chose death. For once, I let someone go, and it didn’t feel like killing them. I would never see her again, and I was relieved. And I was afraid.

  So I found myself back at the inn. Past Livia’s strange wedding preparations and Marcus’ enthusiasm. I’d investigate those oddities later. Because I needed to do two things. I had to face my last mistake. And I had to ask for my victim’s help. As much as I hated being around Margaret, I had needed her. Just so I wouldn’t be alone, if nothing else. I needed someone with a memory, or I’d start to sink again. Into the wood and stone beneath my feet, and I’d let the earth entomb my unmoving legs. That meant facing a man I’d chosen to kill, even though he didn’t deserve it. I had to ask him to come back—and to spend time with a woman who’d abused him. Exactly what I was no longer willing to do.

  I had to ask anyway.

  It would be like practice, in case I ever found Camilla, I thought. If I could apologize to the stranger I’d tried to murder, maybe I could manage the same with my sister.

  I took a deep breath and ran my fingers across the delicately inscribed tree on the cover of my grimoire. I didn’t have a chant for this spell. I’d created it entirely by accident. Out of desperation, and loneliness. But I didn’t need a vocal element for this one. It wasn’t a new spell, so much as a connection to the one I was already trapped in. So long as I could touch the loose threads on the tapestry of those endless days, I could cast it.

  I found Lucas. Again, and again. It was difficult. I hadn’t been able to do it with most people like him. People who’d been trapped in Vitinia’s control. I needed versions of him that existed in the past loops that were free. Otherwise, I’d only build a ghost that was still subservient to his mother. And that wouldn’t be him at all. I’d failed to save Melody earlier for this reason. I’d failed to save dozens of people. But Lucas was… different. I had one small moment where he was himself. When his soul and his enslaved body were separate. A moment when his mind alone was completely free. The instant before he traveled through lamentations and chose to die, rather than to validate his mother’s petty cruelty.

  I latched onto that moment. I twisted it around my finger like thread, and I wove it into a heart. It beat alongside mine, far too rapidly. Afraid and lost. And around it, I built the rest. His memories and his body could be taken from any instant in the loop. So long as the core of his being was free. It was getting easier to do. With every soul I saved, and with every teal spark I absorbed, it was easier. Even this time. I was remembering not just Lucas, but myself. The archmage I’d once been. I’d been strong once. And with new resolve, that strength was returning.

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  Finally, even as I sweat through my clothes, Lucas stood before me. I felt disgusting. I wanted to rewind time on my tunic by just a few moments, just to clean the hot salt from myself. But I had to speak to Lucas first. I had to look him in the eyes and face his judgment. I’d cut him. To the heart. I’d felt his innocent and boiling blood on my hands. If I was going to have the audacity to ask for his help anyway, I could stand the discomfort of sweat while I did it.

  We made eye contact, him standing and me on the ground with my hand on my grimoire. Both of us held chasms of grief in our eyes, and each stare drowned in the other. I meant to apologize. I’d practiced my words the entire way home. I knew they were insufficient, but I couldn’t think of any that would be enough. But, as I was waiting for his mind to make sense of all of his memories at once… he spoke first.

  “What happened?” he said. He then reached out to steady himself on the bed. He trembled with every movement, insubstantial as his body was. Physical or otherwise, he’d forgotten how to use it to an extent. And he still had to work through endless loops of memories, some identical and some different.

  Again, I opened my mouth to answer, and again, he spoke before I had the chance. “Wait. Sorry. Wait,” he said. He held a hand up to waylay me, and rubbed his eyes with the other. I could see him put the pieces together, little by little. It was strange to watch. To feel, really, for how he was intrinsically connected to my aura.

  Margaret seemed to understand instantly. Or at least, she seemed unbothered by a lack of understanding. I wondered if that was because of her connection to the loop, or if it was some inherent part of the spell. Or it was just… Margaret. Here I saw something different. Three days of slavery expanded into hundreds. I winced as he put one hand to his side, exactly where I’d stabbed him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whimpered. I thought it must have sounded so pathetic as he remembered the pain I’d inflicted. But it was all I had. His lips tightened, and he shook his head. He slid to the ground next to me and took a long, deep breath. Despite the lack of actual air, it seemed to help. Again, he shook his head.

  “I understand,” he said after a moment. “I heard you speak with Mom. I understand.” The words had a strange tone to them. There was no forgiveness in them. There was no accusation, either. He meant exactly what he said. He understood what had happened. How he felt about that was a mystery, but he understood. It would have to be enough.

  What mattered was simple. He remembered every loop. He had his mind back. And he understood what had happened, and why. And the message was clear. He had nothing more to say about it. At least… not yet. Not while he was so… new. Not before he had time to live in his new reality and actually process everything.

  “I have no right to ask this,” I said. “After what I did to you. And what I asked you to do for… everyone. After what I cost you. But… I’m sorry. I need your help. To end all of this.”

  He allowed himself to slump until he was properly sitting on the floor in front of me. I could see as a thousand thoughts passed through his eyes. Instead of answering immediately, he held one hand up and flexed his fingers. He curled and uncurled one at a time, breathing in the control he finally had over his own body. At the same time, his other hand rubbed his side. He let out a deep breath, and finally locked his eyes on mine.

  “I don’t know what I can do. At least, I don’t know if I can help you fix what is happening to this city. All I have are words, and I tried that already. You know what happened to me. But… there is one thing I can help with, I think. And I’ll do my best, if that’s what you need,” he finally answered.

  I didn’t reply right away. I wasn’t certain what to make of that. There was something in his eyes that told me it wasn’t exactly an answer to my question. At the same time, they were beginning to steady. Whatever process these… constructed souls went through to understand the loop and their current state of being, he was coming out the other end of it. Which means he could help, whatever he believed. I would have to take his words at face value, regardless of what he meant by them.

  “Thank you,” I replied. That was the best I could do. If he didn’t want to address what I’d done, he didn’t have to. That was his trauma, more than mine. And that was a boundary I could respect. Aside from that, I was done living a life frozen in a moment I couldn’t revisit. If there was a chance to get started, I was going to start walking. Before I remembered how afraid I was. “I think you can help more than you realize. This whole thing… it’s tied to your father, I think.”

  Lucas’ eyes fell to the wood floors as I said this. “Then I really can’t help. My—” he paused. The next word had too many teeth to speak. “I only know one immediate family member, and I know less about her than I thought.” I let out a sigh, but didn’t give up. I decided he might know something, even if he didn’t realize it.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “But I have to ask anyway. Have you heard of a man named Clark Cross?”